


Teach me to want my hands as much as I want yours

by bonthemightybon



Series: 64 fucking squares [2]
Category: The Queen's Gambit (TV)
Genre: (Don't we all), Belligerent Sexual Tension, Benny tries to help, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Horny Beth Harmon, Masturbation, Not Canon Compliant, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, benny can't handle beth's horniness, she needs an outlet, unless you have a filthy mind like me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-26 07:00:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30102066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonthemightybon/pseuds/bonthemightybon
Summary: It was becoming a problem, the way Beth squirmed in her seat when they played. He didn’t need to look at Beth to know that she was staring at him withthatlook, the one she sometimes tried to hide and sometimes just... didn’t. Angry. Hungry. Frustrated.Beth is horny and Benny tells her to take care of it herself.
Relationships: Beth Harmon & Benny Watts, Beth Harmon/Benny Watts
Series: 64 fucking squares [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2214978
Comments: 12
Kudos: 61





	Teach me to want my hands as much as I want yours

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting in a doc for ages feeling unfinished but fuck it.

It was becoming a problem, the way Beth squirmed in her seat when they played. Benny had taken to putting all his focus into the board, instead of his customary tactic of glancing up to read his opponent, a habit learnt over a deck of cards but one which also served him well across a chessboard. But two weeks into their cohabitation and he didn’t need to look at Beth to know that she was staring at him with _that_ look, the one she sometimes tried to hide and sometimes just... didn’t. Angry. Hungry. Frustrated. He noticed it when he looked up from reading out analyses from the latest _Chess Review_ , or when he set her coffee cup down beside her, or when he stepped out of the shower wrapped in nothing but his towel.

But most of all he noticed it when they played chess.

At first it had only happened occasionally, during their own games. But now Beth would get the look during almost every game, even replaying old masters. It usually led her to deviate from the gameplay and he’d keep his voice neutral as he told her to stick to the game they were playing. She would huff and take back her move, making the old master’s play instead with a savagery that sometimes left the piece spinning. They would finish the game and she would propose a game of speed chess.

Always, always speed chess. Every time she was in this kind of mood.

And always Benny would decline. It was getting ridiculous.

Beth had been fidgeting all through the last three games, Russian grandmasters’ championship games from the late 1950s. They had been playing solidly for hours, eating dinner over the second game from plates squeezed beside the board on the small table. It was getting late.

Beth played white’s final move and he felt her look up at him as he ceremoniously toppled his king.

“Wanna play speed chess?”

Benny leant back in his chair.

“God, Beth, are you really that horny?”

Beth’s face went blank.

“What?”

Benny sighed, trying and failing not to grin as he shook his head.

“You always want to play speed chess when you’re… pent up. I don’t know why, it’s not like it does anything but make you worse.”

She blinked and Benny cocked an eyebrow.

“I’m begging you not to try and convince me that you’re not aware of it. That would just be insulting. You’re not that hard to read.”

Beth scowled at him. “Well you’re the one with the stupid “no sex” rule. Can you blame me for trying to get a rise out of you?”

“You think speed chess is gonna get _that_ kind of rise out of me? I play a lot of speed chess, Beth.”

“Not with me.” She arched an eyebrow, radiating smugness.

Benny narrowed his eyes at her, still grinning.

“And if my unrivalled strength of will stops me from acting on it, where does that leave you? Even worse than when we started. I’m not biting. If you’re that worked up just take care of it yourself. I want no part in this.”

Benny stood up, collecting their plates and depositing them in the sink. He began running the water, chuckling under his breath at the insatiable redhead behind him. He was ready for her retort but it never came. Instead the silence grew heavier between them. This was unexpected. Beth always had a comeback for him, even when she knew she had lost. Benny turned off the tap, his confusion fading into a dawning recognition. He planted his hands on the edge of the sink.

“You know what I’m talking about, right?”

The silence stretched. Benny finally turned to face her, leaning on the counter. The edge of the sink bit into the heels of his palms as he took Beth in. She was staring down at the table, her brow furrowed and her mouth twisted, clearly biting the inside of her lip. He hadn’t seen her look this uncertain since Las Vegas.

_Seriously?_

“Harmon.”

She shot him a look, like _You’re gonna “Harmon” me right now?_

And hell yeah he was. If this conversation was going where he thought it was going then it was going to be “Harmon” only. This was going to be intense enough without the familiarity of first names.

“Jesus, kid. Don’t you read?”

She rolled her eyes and gestured to the stacks of chess books on the coffee table.

“I didn’t realise your focus was quite so exclusive.” No wonder she projected so much into speed chess. He ran a hand over his face, a cheap excuse not to look at her as he asked, “Do you know what masturbation is?”

She scoffed. “Yeah _Benny_ , I’m not a child.” She put extra emphasis on his first name. “When a man and his hand love each other _very much_ …”

He laughed. He couldn’t help himself. It was a good line. _Ever the quick wit._

“Ok, very good.” Because he honestly couldn’t help being a patronising ass sometimes, and maybe it would afford him a little distance. They could use that right now. “But it’s not just men. Many people have a very special relationship with their hands.” He tried to keep things light, matching her sarcastic tone.

She looked disgruntled, petulant even, like she had been caught out giving a wrong answer in class because _my friend said_ …

“But you only hear about it with men. I just assumed.”

“Well you’re not wrong, female sexuality is still a pretty taboo subject.” Why was this sounding like a lecture? She was squirming now and he had to take pity on her. “But it shouldn’t be.”

Benny levered himself off the sink and rejoined Beth at the kitchen table, opting for the seat diagonal from her so they weren’t in their usual oppositional stance. He fought the urge to turn the chair and sit on it backwards. That would probably be taking it too far. Instead he sat normally but faced straight ahead, letting her rest in his peripheral vision.

“Look, we all have itches that need to be scratched, and sometimes you just have to do it yourself. For everyone’s sake.”

“Is that how you’re managing this?”

He slid his jaw to the side fighting a smile, avoiding her pointed stare. He wasn’t going to rise to it.

“Look, just try it, ok? It might take the edge off.”

She snorted, then sighed.

“Ok fine. But what do girls even do?”

“Don’t play dumb.”

“I’m not!” She sounded almost angry.

Benny fisted his hand in his hair. Was this a gambit or did she really not know? He was immediately regretting sitting down next to her. He could feel her eyes boring into his face. He let his hand slide down to the back of his neck and made himself look at her.

“I’m not that kind of trainer, ok? Use your imagination.” With that Benny pushed himself back from the table and stalked to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

…

Beth wriggled on the thin mattress, trying to get comfortable. The air inside was transferring the cold from the concrete floor straight through to her body and she wrestled the covers more firmly around herself to try to trap in some heat. She wrapped her arms around herself, half against the chill and half still against her annoyance at Benny.

His “no sex” rule was such bullshit. He had so clearly been flirting with her at the bar in Ohio. Granted she had sort of started it by touching his hair, and granted he had changed the conversation back to Russia, but his tone with her was always suggestive. She hadn’t even thought his training proposition was serious at first. The way he had spoken dismissively about Harry ( _did he even know about that? Was it so obvious?_ ), the way he had said “Someone… better.” The implication was clear enough even without the pointed pause, the slight smirk. “Someone more, uh, mature.” Everything after that had sounded like obvious pretense, right up until he brought up sex.

It had to be a game. That’s what she had thought. He knew how to fluster her on the board and off it. This had to be another angle to get an advantage, to put her on the back foot, to make her desperate. And damn it, she was desperate. At first his grandiose pomposity had been like a brake pedal, bringing her back to irritation when her blood started to rise. But somewhere along the line Beth had developed a grudging respect for his self-important pontification. He was so often right, and he really was improving her game.

And so now everything was adding to her frustration. The way he looked at her when they played, every smirk and sarcastic comment, the hard-won compliments and the bitter-tasting critiques alike. She was either aroused by him or furious enough to want to wipe that knowing look off his face, which ultimately just led her back to the same place. She remembered the adrenaline and fury of their night of speed chess back in Ohio, where she had been so angry with him, with herself, so impressed at his skill, so heated by the way he looked at her. Maybe that’s why she had started challenging him to another round when she felt like this. These feelings were just the same, except now it felt like they were coming from every angle, every moment of the day. And he always refused, which only made it worse.

She had been flabbergasted when he called her out on it. She had only been partially aware of the correlation herself. Yet again Benny could send her back on her heels, more in her head than even she was. She hated how well he understood her. She hated how much more attractive it made him.

Beth considered his suggestion. She had heard of boys masturbating - she’d been to high school after all. But nobody had ever even whispered about girls doing the same thing. Her mind fumbled to comprehend the mechanics of it. Tentatively she slid one hand down the satin of her pyjamas and let it rest on her hip, fingers tapping nervously. She felt herself blushing in the darkness and huffed, exasperated with herself. She’d had sex before, and that had involved other people. She could do this. She could take charge of herself.

Defiantly Beth thrust her hand inside her pyjama bottoms and cupped herself. Her hand was cold and she flinched at the contact. She set her jaw and tried pressing the heel of her palm to the front of herself. There was something, but it felt too distant. The contact didn’t feel good, it just felt incidental, like riding a bike. She slid an experimental finger inside herself and winced. It reminded her of putting in a tampon, something she’d finally learnt how to do with some time and finnicking and careful reading of the instructions in the box. There was nothing sexy about that.

A brief jolt of panic ran through her. _Am I broken? Should I be feeling something else right now?_ Again she thought of her few sexual encounters. The first time had been hazy and sore, and she had been too distracted by her dry mouth and the weed making her thoughts flit around, unable to settle. With Harry things had been less uncomfortable, but she had still felt distant from what was happening, any brief tingle of pleasure swiftly bypassed. It had felt mechanical. It had been nothing like the things she’d heard from the other girls at school. Maybe there was something wrong with her?

She thought of Benny again. _We all have itches that need to be scratched_. Well she had the itch alright, that much at least was certain. And he clearly knew more than her about scratching it. He’d thought she was playing dumb. But no, she just was dumb. At least when it came to this. _God this is going to be so fucking humiliating_.

…

Benny lay in the dark of his room, one hand thrown carelessly above his head.

“ _Is that how you’re managing this?_ ”

Benny had to laugh. It reminded him of Beth asking “Are you that nervous?” outside the college in Ohio. He hadn’t had such a quick rejoinder this time though. The question had struck a little too close to home.

Usually Benny unwound by playing chess. This had become problematic with Beth however. The cool, intellectual detachment he usually found on the board was gone. Their games felt like flirting and fighting and fucking all at once. They were playing with fire, and she was desperate to touch the flame. Benny had quickly realised that he had to be the one with the self-control in this situation, and frankly it was not a role he was suited to. On top of that Beth seemed to be going out of her way to make it harder for him. He should have resented her for it, but he had to admit she was playing an excellent game. Beth Harmon truly was an intuitive player.

With his usual outlet rendered useless, Benny had indeed been taking matters into his own hands. However this too was problematic. He had been forcing himself not to think about Beth when he was alone in bed at night, but images of her had begun to flash unbidden behind his eyes. He would make himself stop, refocus, but it was getting worse. Some nights he would be forced to give up altogether because she just wouldn’t leave his mind.

He had figured out her speed chess shorthand early on. In some ways she wasn’t so hard to read. And he had steadfastly refused to concede to the tactic, deliberately withholding, because he knew it wouldn’t lead anywhere good. Benny told himself that it was for Beth’s sake, but he knew that he was in dangerous territory too.

He hadn’t exactly decided to bring it up tonight, but his amused exasperation had got the better of him. Her confusion had genuinely surprised him. He didn’t fully trust her not to be fucking with him, but it was uncharacteristic for Beth not to give him snark. She didn’t tend to play the ingénue, at least not with him. Did she really not know how to…? No wonder she was so frustrated.

He set the whole topic aside, deciding to try for sleep. There was no hope for a clean mind tonight, not given their most recent conversation, and the sneaking thoughts about what she might be doing as a result. He turned over on his side and closed his eyes.

There came a tentative knock at his bedroom door. Benny’s eyes opened. Was he hearing things? It had been quiet…

“Benny?”

He sat up. Beth’s voice was low but he definitely hadn’t imagined it.

_Jesus, what now?_

“What is it?”

A heavy pause.

“…I can’t do it.”

“What are you talking about?”

“ _It_. I can’t do _it_.”

Benny dropped his head into both hands, scrubbing his face.

“Well did you try?”

“Yes I tried! It just felt… weird.” Irritation succumbed to defeat and worry in her voice.

Benny sighed and switched on the light before clambering out of bed and grabbing his silk robe. He hesitated by the door. He could see Beth through the textured glass and settled for leaning against the wall instead.

“Weird how?”

“I don’t know, just weird. Foreign. Kind of clinical.”

He hesitated. Where was Cléo when you needed her? Probably halfway around the world. Definitely busy. He was going to have to do this himself.

“What did you try?”

She laughed, sarcastic. “Well I thought I’d start with dinner and a movie- I put my hand down my pants, Benny. Jesus.”

Benny bit his lip, trying not to laugh.

“Ok I think I see what the issue is. You tried to go in cold.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You skipped the opening and went straight for the endgame. You have to set the board up first.”

Silence. In his peripheral vision he saw Beth sit, her back to the door, hugging her knees to her chest.

“Explain.”

Benny mirrored her, sitting on the cold concrete.

“Ok so you know the goal.”

“Hand in the pants,” she nodded.

Benny grinned at her matter-of-fact tone of voice. “Right. But you sometimes have to work up to that. Get the engine running first. Think of it like warming up.”

“I’m going to need a notebook to keep track of all these metaphors.”

He laughed out loud at that. “Well excuse me for trying to lend a little delicacy to this conversation.”

“I’m just surprised. Usually you have all the tact of a bulldozer.”

“This isn’t chess.”

“Really? What was that about not rushing my endgame and ‘setting up the board’?”

“Well you do tend to lead with aggression, so that does kind of track…”

It was her turn to laugh. Benny felt himself relax at the sound and he smiled.

“So how do I set up the board?”

“I mean, it’s different for everyone, and it can be different every time too.” Jesus, were they really having this conversation? “Sometimes you can just let your mind wander. Picture things that make you feel… the right kind of way. Memories or fantasies. Whatever takes you there. Sometimes it can be enough to just imagine the right scenario with the right person doing the right things...”

Benny trailed off and there was a tense silence as he tried not to wonder what Beth was thinking about.

“Ok, what else?”

Benny took a deep breath. “Well you can also let your hands wander. But don’t rush it. Touch whatever parts of your body want to be touched. Anywhere you’d like someone else’s hands.” He found himself running his fingers through his hair and stopped. “Start light, see how different kinds of pressure feel.”

Out of the corner of his eye he watched the blurred shape of Beth’s hand come up to her neck, just as he had seen across the board dozens of times. Benny shivered and told himself it was the cold. He crawled to the edge of his bed and yanked the blanket off, pulling it around himself as he settled back down, leaning against the door this time, putting Beth out of his field of vision.

“You can use your nails if that feels good. Switching between that and very light touches can be…” He trailed off, unsure of how to finish the sentence. In the silence he heard Beth hiss quietly. God she was doing it right now... Benny’s eyes closed. He was really playing with fire here. “Basically you want to make yourself want it _there_ but hold out as long as you can.”

He heard her breathe out a laugh. “Are you this withholding with yourself?”

Benny gritted his teeth, ignoring how her voice travelled through his body. _Clearly_.

“Just take your time.” _Like I’d take my time with you_. The thought came like a scream and he wondered if she had heard it. He let out a long, shaky breath, trying to keep it quiet.

There was silence for several minutes during which Benny told himself over and over to bid Beth goodnight and go back to bed. He should leave her to it. He shouldn’t be part of this. It was too close for comfort. This was meant to be a sharing of advice, not a step-by-step walkthrough. But his mutinous body refused to move. There was a gentle thud, the sound of her head coming to rest against the glass between them, and unthinkingly Benny tilted his own head back, mirroring her.

“How do you feel?” Benny studiously ignored the raggedness of his voice.

He could hear her smile when she replied, “Like playing speed chess.”

Benny bit his lip. “Go for it, kid.”

…

Beth wanted to punch him for calling her a kid _right now_. But she was too wound up to do anything but accept his permission.

She slipped her hand below the waistband of her pyjamas once more and the effect was immediate. She hadn’t even reached her goal yet but it was like there was electricity arcing from her fingertips towards the heat between her thighs. She forced herself to take her time, hearing Benny’s voice echoing in her mind, seeing him in her mind’s eye, studying her across the board. Always too close. Never close enough.

The gasp as she made contact was entirely involuntary. The sensation was so different to her earlier attempt, like suddenly there were batteries in the remote and the messages were sending. She was so wet and warm under her own fingers, and she recognised the feeling from uncrossing and recrossing her legs when she and Benny would play a particularly intense game. She explored herself as Benny had told her to do, finding what felt good, listening to her body instead of her mind. Beth couldn’t help but wonder if this would feel as good without him so close to her, without the heat of his back warming the cool glass behind her, without his voice, low and intimate and the studied calmness of his breath.

She slid two fingers in vertical lines through her folds, noting the craving for pressure at both peaks of the movement. The sensations were different when she brushed her clit than they were when she teased her entrance, different kinds of want. She experimented, her back arching as she stroked the bundle of nerves, her head rolling back further as she dipped her fingers shallowly inside herself. This was nothing like either of her sexual partners had made her feel, and she tried to imagine either of them doing this. They either didn’t know how to touch a woman in this way or they didn’t care.

But Benny knew. Benny cared. Benny wanted her to experience this, even if only to get her off his case. She wondered how it would feel to have Benny’s hand in place of her own. She pictured him kneeling before her, curling his fingers inside her and another gasp bit past her lips, breathier than before, almost a moan. She imagined him watching her, that smirk tugging at his lips, lips she longed to feel on her skin. Her free hand fluttered to her mouth, then back to her neck and she pictured him dipping his mouth to kiss the hot skin beneath her ear. She longed to touch him; had been longing for weeks. She remembered slamming back into her shitty student room in Ohio after her first taste of speed chess, the fluttering in her abdomen, her hot skin screaming for his hands.

She thrust her fingers deeper inside herself, her palm pressing against her heat and this time it was definitely a moan that escaped her throat. She felt Benny shift against the door and wondered if he was leaving her to it. She pictured the scene, the strong-willed mentor returning to sleep as the wanton disciple fucked herself at the closed barrier he kept firmly between them. A flash of anger joined the maelstrom in her body, although at him or at herself for exposing herself like this, she couldn’t say. But he couldn’t get away with this. As separate as they were he was responsible for the pleasure she was feeling right now, and they both knew it.

It took Beth a minute to realise that Benny wasn’t leaving. She was unquestionably distracted, trying to decide whether to spread her legs wide to make way for easier contact between her palm and her clit as she curled her fingers inside herself, or to squeeze her thighs together, intensifying the pressure. When she had a moment of external awareness long enough to register his continued presence, she considered his movement. Was he just getting comfortable, or was he getting a little hot under the collar himself? She felt a smirk colour her features at the idea of him waiting around to hear the results of his advice, of the self proclaimed king of self control listening to her touch herself, trying to resist the heat between them. It made her want to moan louder.

The idea of Benny hearing her masturbate should have made her squirm with embarrassment. But she had already done the most humiliating part: crawling to his door in the night and begging for help getting herself off. The thought that he had chosen to stay just made her blood pump harder. She pictured him sitting there, nails dug into his palms to keep his own hands from wandering. She imagined his face as he listened to her, biting his lip, sweat lending a sheen to his neck. She wanted to taste it. She let herself fantasise about threading her fingers through his messy blond hair, tilting his head to give herself access to his pulse point. She imagined kneeling over him, pressing her hips against his, slaking their craving for friction a little, if not enough.

Beth was panting now, quiet mewls coming with each curl of her fingers. She wanted more, wanted him, but he was going to have to be the one to open that door. Her free hand slid roughly down her front, a stab of want piercing her as she grazed her breast - _how would Benny’s hands feel on her breasts?_ \- and came to join the other. She cupped her own hand, pressing it harder against herself, grinding her hips up into the contact. Her head rolled to the side and out of the corner of her eye she saw the outline of Benny’s neck, silhouetted against the light from his bedroom lamp. His head was tilted back, just as hers had been, and she could see his shoulders moving with his breathing. She forced herself to focus and could hear his inhalations coming quickly. Beth wondered where his hands were now.

The idea of him touching himself, either now in tandem with her or later, with the memory of her gasps crystal clear in his mind, made her hips buck up and she felt her own walls begin to squeeze against her fingers.

“Oh god, oh fuck-” The words tumbled from her lips, feeling like they were coming through her from somewhere else. Her legs began to shake and she pictured their bodies twined together, naked in his bed. “Benny, Benny, god…”

She heard him draw in a sharp breath at the sound of her crying his name and then the pressure inside her seemed to hit a precipice and she was falling, her whole body taught like a wire as her breath caught in her throat and she felt herself spasm.

The silence stretched and she realised they were both holding their breath only when she let hers out in heavy chokes, like she had just been saved from drowning. She drew her knees close to her chest involuntarily, her body curling in on itself in the absence of someone else to hold as she shuddered through the aftershocks of her orgasm. She went to remove her fingers but stopped when she felt her body protest. Experimentally she curled them again and felt another shock run through her. She huffed a laugh.

She heard Benny clear his throat quietly. “Better?”

She laughed a little more at that. “I thought this was supposed to make me want sex _less_.” She still sounded breathless. It was Benny’s turn to chuckle, although she could hear the tension in his voice.

“Well at least now you know how to take care of it yourself.” The door shifted as he levered himself upright. Beth freed her hands and dragged herself to her feet as well, turning to the glass partition between them. Through the gently fogged glass she could make out the outline of Benny’s body facing away from her, bare but for his boxers, one hand fisted in the blanket that was pooled around his feet. She watched him take a deep breath and let it out softly, his shoulders struggling to relax. Without looking he placed one hand against the glass behind him and wordlessly Beth pressed her own palm against his. She imagined she could feel the heat of his skin through the barrier, wishing she could take his hand and turn him to face her, press it against her chest so he could feel the frantic pace of her heart, still hammering out the epilogue of her climax. She wanted him to look at her, knowing full-well that he wouldn’t risk it.

“Hey Benny.” He turned his head just a little, looking down to where their hands almost met. “Wanna play speed chess?”

**Author's Note:**

> Ok it's not my most polished work, any feedback much appreciated!


End file.
